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Excerpts From The Fetish Queen by Nicole Camden

Channel Your Inner "Fetish Queen" With These Saucy Excerpts

The Fetish Queen is about to dominate your day . . . We're sharing two sexy excerpts from the first book in Nicole Camden's erotic romance series — a hot one and an even hotter one — depending on how racy you want to go! Keep in mind: if you wouldn't want your co-workers spying you reading Fifty Shades of Grey, both excerpts should be considered NSFW. Here's a little bit about the book:

"Appearances are never what they seem, but even at first glance, the buxom sex-shop owner Lille and the tattooed Irish barman-next-door Max know the other will be trouble in Nicole Camden's newest erotic series."

Read the excerpts below, and for more information on the steamy series, visit XOXO After Dark.

PG-13 Excerpt:

A loud honk woke Max Jobman up from a sound sleep, and his German shepherd, Bambi, scrambled up beside him. He'd been so knackered when he'd finally gotten home from his pub last night that he'd passed out on the couch while petting the dog. Friday night had been busier than usual since it was so close to Halloween; he hadn't been able to pick Bambi up from Mary's house next door till after three in the morning.

When Mary's mother, Mandy, died a few months back, she'd left her half of Jobman's — the pub his uncle Bryan had opened in the 1970s — to Mary. It had sure shocked the shit out of him at the time. Mandy had been like a mother to him, but he'd never known she had a daughter. Max had already inherited his half of the business when his uncle died not long before, and he'd expected to get the other half when Mandy passed away, but instead, her pale, dreamy artist of a daughter had come to town. And now there were more surprises.

Mary had mentioned that she was expecting her best friend, Lille, to arrive early this morning, but he hadn't expected it to be at the asscrack of dawn. He certainly hadn't been looking forward to the new arrival. Things had just settled into what felt like a normal routine after the upheaval of the past month or so, including the recent break-in at the Box, and from the way that Mary described her best friend, he figured that she wasn't likely to be much of a calming influence on any of them.

He thought about ignoring the honk for one brief second, but the incidents of the past month compelled him to get up and check.
He knew he would never get back to sleep anyway.

He snatched up his T-shirt from the arm of the couch and pulled it over his head. Bambi stood in front of him, grinning, eager to investigate.

Max stood and stretched before locating his jeans on the floor. He tugged them on, going commando as usual, and snatched up his keys from the coffee table. Barefoot, he padded across the cool tile to the front door, where he slid on the flip-flops that he kept there for easy access. Bambi trotted at his side as they made their way down the sidewalk in front of his part of the property and rounded the corner to the street that led to the beach. Mary's house sat diagonally to his on a shared lot, with her corner facing the beach, and she was coming out of her garage just as he reached the drive.

A beautiful blonde wearing a red scarf in her hair and oversize sunglasses pulled up to the curb in a classic 1960s Mercedes convertible. It was creamy and round and reminded Max of the white chocolate Godiva truffles that they sold at the Fetish Box.

The blonde, Lille, he assumed, stepped out of the car wearing a suit that was downright ridiculous for the beach, but absolutely perfect for a set of curves that made his mouth fall open, just a little. She came toward them and raised her sunglasses, revealing eyes as green as the rolling hills of his Irish homeland.

"Hey, baby," Lille said to Mary, and shot him a flirtatious glance under her thick lashes.

He didn't know exactly what prompted him to say it, self-defense maybe, but his response to the blond bombshell in front of him was a surly "Do ye know what f*cking time 'tis?"

Her smile widened impossibly, revealing perfect white teeth. She made a pout with her lips as if she was disappointed in him, then blew him a kiss.

"You must be Max. Love the tattoos. Are you always this grumpy in the morning?" she teased, and handed him her bag. "Carry this in for me, darling."

X-Rated Excerpt:

Lille took a seat on one of the barstools and slowly removed the ponytail from her hair, shaking out the soft blond waves with her fingers. She could feel her body loosening as she thought about the hard muscles that she would have beneath her fingers.

Turning on the stool so she'd face him when he returned, she propped one of her heels on the top rung of the barstool and waited.

Max came into the light of an overhead lamp and stopped, letting his eyes drift down her body. Pulling a towel from the waistband of his pants, he wiped his hands and threw it off to the side, but he didn't move any closer.

Lille tilted her head a little and let her legs fall open, just a touch.

"Are you coming over here?"

Max shook his head. "I don't know."

Lille liked that answer. He was fighting her so hard and he was so gorgeous, his chest moving up and down with unwilling excitement.

"You should come over here and let me kiss you."

"I'll be the one doing the kissing."

"Is that right?" Lille purred, and lifted her left foot onto the stool, untying the bow at the top of her boot. "Wanna know what I'm wearing under these leggings?" she ventured, watching his eyes dip between her legs.

"I don't give a f*ck," he confessed, his fingers twitching as if he was imagining touching her. He took a step closer and seemed to force himself to stop.

Lille licked her lips and dared him with her eyes. "Come here, Max. You know you want to."

He snarled and stalked forward abruptly, catching a hand in the lush softness of her hair. She let him pull her head back and take her mouth. He kissed her hard, angrily, pressing her lips against her teeth and shoving his tongue deep. She kissed him back, fighting savagely with her own tongue, but after a moment, she yanked hard on his hair.

He jerked away. "What the f*ck?"

She was breathing hard, her lips swollen and red, and she was so damn beautiful, her disheveled hair floating around her heart-shaped face like the mermaid's in the statue at the Box.

"You want me?" she asked, and damn it if he wanted to say anything otherwise. He wanted her too damn f*cking much.

"You want me," she stated this time, and her gaze was resolute. "We do this my way, darling, or we don't do it."

He wanted to tell her to f*ck off, that no pretty piece of ass was worth this shite, but there was something about her, something that made his breath ragged. Lines from a poem kept drifting through his mind, one of his uncle's favorites: "All that's best of dark and bright. Meet in her aspect and her eyes."

The rational voice in Max's head told him to get the hell away from her. She was a dangerous woman.

But then, when had he ever behaved rationally?

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